Alien's Challenge: A Sci-Fi Alien Romance (Outlaw Planet Mates) Read online

  Her exhausted brain took a few seconds to realize that people with thick lizard tails couldn’t sit on the type of toilet she was familiar with.

  Faris adjusted something on the hose until water poured out. He placed it back on the hook. “Toilet, sink. Soap is on the shelf. Is the water too hot?”

  She stuck her hand under the stream of lukewarm water. “No. It’s fine.”

  “I will remain outside the door. Call me if you require assistance.”

  His overbearing attitude should have been a turnoff, but she felt charmed by him. Had to be a lingering side effect of the abduction. Multiple abductions. Well, two. She wasn't a victim of serial abductions.

  She hoped that wasn’t a thing.

  Even lukewarm, the water felt amazing. She sat on the bench and let the gunk and grime—and Grabby Hands’ blood—sluice off her. Exploring the bottles, she found a sweet-smelling oil, something that smelled like bleach, and a floral lotion. The last bottle contained the nearest thing to body wash, so she used that. Despite not lathering, she felt clean. The soap was a simple nutty fragrance, perfumed from whatever fat was used, like cocoa butter. She worked it through her hair, so damn happy to wash away the horrible events after she woke up in the warehouse.

  She needed to get home. Answers about what happened would be nice but getting home was more important. Her poor Mom. Alice couldn’t imagine the horror of having your child just vanish in the woods. Her mom probably thought she got eaten by a bear or murdered by a serial killer. Or her ex-husband.

  Another gap in her memory was filled. She had an ex-husband, Travis. His face remained foggy, but she remembered taking off her wedding ring and stuffing it in a jewelry box.

  How many people did she leave behind? She wanted to find the aliens who abducted her and smack them across the face with a pistol and stab them until her rage drained away.

  Faris would help her, she felt certain. He didn’t explicitly say he would, but he didn’t jump at the chance to sell a valuable human female, either. When Small mentioned sending her off to human sympathizers to “figure out what to do with her,” Faris said no.

  Alice trusted him. Since she woke up naked in a warehouse, surrounded by strangers who saw her only as an opportunity to turn a profit, he was the only decent person she’d met. Considering that he shot multiple people, the bar for decent was low.

  Fine, she shot Randevere, who was technically a person. Despite it being a total accident, she’d do it again. She wasn’t meeting her own definition of decent either.

  But Faris hadn’t killed anyone, not even Grabby Hands. Injured? Yes. Beat the snot out of? Without a doubt. Murdered? Everyone at the bar was breathing the last time she checked.

  Beyond that, she felt safe with him. Everything had been a chaotic jumble until he showed up. The chaos continued, but she felt safe next to him in the center of the maelstrom.

  He’d help her get home. She knew it.

  Faris

  He needed air. The sound of water filled the room. Foolishly, he strained to listen for her heartbeat.

  This was the fever. His cock throbbed, demanding release. Remaining passive while she wrapped her arms around him during the cycle ride had been one of the most difficult feats he ever achieved. Not slaughtering the male who attempted to take her had not nearly been as challenging as not responding to her touches.

  He opened the window and took a deep breath of the cold, clean air.

  It would pass.

  He would molt. The hormones responsible for new scale production would burn off. The female would no longer invade his thoughts. His cock would be his own once again.

  He rubbed the palm of his hand against himself. He had carried her in his arms, held her soft form against his. The lustful part of his mind whispered that his constant erection would frighten the female. A quick release would take the edge off.

  The water continued to run. He would be quick, he silently promised as he opened his trousers and took himself in hand.

  His cock was swollen and hard. Lubricant oozed along the seams; that was how strongly his body reacted to the female.

  He stroked his length, from the wide base to the tapered tip.

  He had believed himself too old to molt and too old for a fever. Males his age should have more dignity than to hunger after a female, yearn to implant his seed into her, and make a nest.

  Chastisement fell away as he pictured Alice in their nest, drunk with desire and filled with his eggs. Her dark hair would spill around her. He’d roll her onto her stomach, have her lift her tail to present like a Nakkoni female. Instead of a tail, she had her round human ass. He wanted to grab onto her, to drive into her.

  Pleasure coiled at the base of his spine, spreading through him until he felt he would explode. His stem opened, the three petals expanding in his fist. His cock pulsed, spilling a thick fluid. The edge was not gone. If anything, it was keener than before. Now that he had imagined Alice in his nest as his mate, the yearning for the impossible would not leave him.

  He sagged against the window frame.

  This will pass, he told himself.

  He suspected that it would not.

  Chapter 6

  Alice

  Alice found an oversized tunic and a robe hanging on a hook outside the bathroom door. She finger-combed her hair, hoping for the best but expecting a rat’s nest once it dried. Once dressed, she found Faris sitting on the floor by the window, a first aid kit at his side. A tray with sandwiches and a jug of water sat on the table.

  Faris had his shirt off, a bottle in one hand and a wad of cloth in the other. From the way he twisted his arm, she assumed he meant to clean the wound between his shoulders.

  “Let me,” she said, taking the bottle of cleaning solution and the cloth.

  “No. You need to rest,” he said.

  “I won’t rest if you’re grunting and cursing,” she retorted. She pulled over a chair and pointed at it. “Sit.”

  She waited.

  He huffed and he puffed.

  “I’d be finished by now,” she said.

  “Doubtful,” he muttered, but he sat with his back to her.

  A red gash tore through the scales, leaving a jagged line and exposed pink flesh.

  She took a deep breath and released slowly. Blood never bothered her, but the inside stuff—muscle, mucus, all that—made her queasy.

  “You are distressed,” he said.

  “I’m okay. I’m certified in first aid,” she said, although her annual certification was more about determining if a person was breathing and calling 911 than slapping on bandages. “Clean the wound, yes?”

  “Clean the wound, remove the damaged scales, and apply a sealer.”

  She tipped the bottle to the cloth, then pressed that to his back. The wound bubbled and fizzed. If it stung, Faris remained silent.

  Focus on the nice things—the different things.

  Faris had a very nice set of shoulders, broad and sturdy. He was big too. Broad as well as tall. Yes, he was a massive lizardman. He had quills on his head and a tail. For all of that, he was hot. Literally. The man threw off heat like a furnace.

  This close, she detected a sweet aroma like almond oil. It must have been his soap. His scales weren’t a solid color either. They were variegated red and gray, sometimes a streak of black. The surface was dull and the edges rough, almost raggedy. The cloth caught on the rough edges.

  Concentrating on the appealing aspects of him, she dabbed and swabbed until the area was clean.

  “Okay, next step,” she said. He handed her a pair of pliers. “You’re joking.”

  “No. Pull the damaged ones. They will not repair themselves, and the skin underneath will not heal properly and scar.”

  A jagged scar lower on his back testified to this.

  She gave the pliers a test clamp. “Will it hurt?”

  “I am in a molting cycle. It does not matter,” he answered, which was no answer at all.

  “Fine, be all t
ough. You know, it’s okay to admit that something hurts. To feel pain is…normal.” She almost said human but caught herself.

  The quills on his head, what was left of them, flexed up and down. The gesture made her think of the way a person’s shoulders moved when they laughed.

  “I assure you,” he said, “I experience pain. This conversation is painful.”

  Oh, Hot Lizardman is sassy too.

  “Hush, I’m a damn delight and you know it.” She slipped the pliers under a broken scale and pulled. His shoulders tensed, but he remained silent. The scale pulled free with a side-to-side jiggle.

  She cleared the obviously broken scales and then the ones surrounding the area. They pulled away easily enough. Finally, all that remained was tender pink skin and the open gash.

  She ran a hand over the remaining scales, surprised at how silky and smooth they felt. She expected rough, like a fish. The old scar on his lower back had a glossy pink appearance, and it felt hard when she applied pressure.

  He grunted.

  “Sorry,” she said. “What happened here?” She lightly brushed the scar with her fingertips.

  “It was a long time ago.”

  “Sold a kidney on the black market. I got ya,” she said in a joking tone and continued her exploration. Where was this touchy-feely stuff coming from? This wasn’t like her. She wasn’t a shy person, but she didn’t feel strangers up, even if they were incredibly attractive.

  She ran her hand against the grain of the scales, the rough edges of a few catching against her palm. They were damaged as well and came away easily with the pliers.

  With that finished, she rinsed again with the cleanser and Faris handed her a white tube. “Apply this to the wound. It will create a barrier,” he said.

  Alice applied a dab to his back. A sharp, astringent odor tickled her nose. Good to know that medicine smelled like medicine on the other side of the galaxy, or wherever she was.

  “This won’t, like, burn a hole in my skin?” she asked, her finger hovering over the glob.

  “It is safe for many beings.”

  “But humans? Specifically humans? I’ve had a rough day and I’d like to avoid chemical burns,” she said. Rather than answer, he handed her a square of gauze. “Thank you.”

  After applying a thick layer with the gauze, she told him to turn around so she could clean his front.

  Leaning forward to dab at the cut on his brow, the front of the tunic gaped open. His eyes drifted down. A moment later, she realized.

  “Oh! Sorry. Didn’t mean to flash you.” She tightened the ties at the front of the tunic. “It’d be better if I was closer.”

  His quills flexed up and down. “Yes, that would be more efficient.”

  She dragged the chair closer, but that wasn’t close enough. The scales were small and the light wasn’t right. Feeling bold, she sat directly on his lap.

  “That’s better. Turn this way.” With her finger under his chin, she tilted his head to the light. Now she could see the finer scales around his temple. Perfect.

  She repeated the process of cleaning and plucking out the damaged scales.

  “How about the quills?” she asked. He had a plucked chicken look going on but didn’t mention it to avoid insulting his vanity, though he didn’t seem the vain sort. She reached for the quills, curious about how they felt.

  He grabbed her hand, holding her by the wrist. “Leave them.”

  “Sure. Sorry I’m all touchy. I’m not normally like this.” She tugged for him to release her, but he held firm.

  She licked her lips. His eyes tracked her tongue, the vertical slits expanding. So strange. His features weren’t human, not even close, but he was good -looking with sharp cheekbones and a heavy jaw. He didn’t even have lips, not plump ones. What he had were thin and barely registered as lips. When he spoke, teeth flashed. Lots of teeth. How did his people kiss with mouths like that?

  What would it be like to kiss him?

  That idea seemed like the best idea in the world. She leaned in.

  “Alice—”

  She pressed her lips to his. She poured her desire into the kiss, moving her lips over his, and he…was unresponsive.

  She jerked back, stumbling off his lap. She covered her mouth with her hands, like that could erase her unwanted advance. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.”

  “Alice—”

  The bed hit the back of her legs, and she tumbled down. “I don’t know what’s happening to me. Is this stress? It has to be.”

  How long since she last slept? She couldn’t sleep on the train. Even locked in her crate, her mind wouldn’t quiet. Restless energy, plus fear, kept her wide awake. Fear was great at generating insomnia.

  “Eat, then sleep.” Faris handed her a sandwich.

  Food sounded good.

  “My momma always said never make a big decision on an empty stomach,” she said, then frowned. Another fragment of her memory fell into place, but it did not make her feel better. She felt homesick.

  Pleasantly thick slices of bread sandwiched a fried egg. It smelled divine. Eagerly, she bit into it. The fried egg had a rich, buttery flavor. It was simple but perfect.

  “This is the best thing that’s ever happened to my mouth,” she decided.

  Faris’ quills flexed. Judgy lizard.

  “So, about my abduction—”

  “Tomorrow,” he said, not allowing her to finish her question. He ate his sandwich in two bites and started on another.

  “The one-word answers are losing their luster, to be honest,” she said between bites.

  “I will answer any questions you have tomorrow. Does that satisfy you?”

  “You know, if you’d just tell me, you’d be done already, but let’s continue to protest and tell me why you can’t spit it out now. It’s funny in that way that’s not really funny at all.”

  “There is nothing to spit. Do all humans speak in such riddles?”

  “I’ll tell you tomorrow,” she said dryly.

  His remaining quills went back. That probably wasn’t a good sign, but Alice wouldn’t apologize. She thought that was pretty damn witty.

  “You need to sleep,” he grumbled.

  “Trust me, if you don’t tell me, I’ll keep myself up worrying about it,” she said.

  “You misunderstand. You were removed from a stasis pod less than three days ago. The drugs are still in your system, making you lethargic and dull-witted.”

  “Watch it with the dull-witted comments,” she retorted.

  He huffed. “To counteract this, you were injected with a stimulant. Do you recall an injection?”

  Damn it, she did. Memory was foggy, and those first moments were slippery, refusing to be pinned down, but there had been an injection. “Yes,” she answered.

  “That is for the buyer’s benefit, to make you more alert and bright -eyed.”

  “They gave me uppers?” She didn’t wait for the answer, because obviously, yes. “They gave me uppers. Is this why I feel, you know?”

  She leaped off the bed, mortified at her behavior. Wearing nothing but an oversized shirt and kissing the hot red lizardman, all while drugged.

  “It is not uncommon for a female to be given a drug to make her receptive to her owner’s attention,” he said.

  “What a lovely way to say roofied and raped.” She sat on the bed, curling her legs under herself. “They drugged my food.” Not a question, because she already knew.

  “Assuredly,” he said.

  Gah, she felt unclean and needed another shower. A dozen showers to scour off her skin where they touched, grabbed, and squeezed her, all while she was too drugged up to fight back. Even better, she wanted to take a baseball bat and start smashing skulls.

  That sounded so, so good.

  Alice never thought she was a violent person. She loved reading on rainy days and listening to true-crime podcasts. Okay, maybe that was a clue. She spent a lot of mental energy following murders and art thieves, prob
ably more than was healthy but she needed to listen to something while she did the dishes and folded laundry.

  Tomorrow’s agenda: source a baseball bat.

  She yawned, covering her mouth with her hand.

  “The stimulants typically last for a few days before the effects diminish,” he said. “When that happens, you will pass out and sleep until your body burns off the remaining stasis chemicals.”

  “Don’t think I didn’t notice how you said pass out and not fall asleep.” Even as she grumbled, she crawled under the blankets.

  “Sleep,” he ordered.

  “Bossy,” she muttered, but snuggled in. The sheets were crisp and clean and blankets soft.

  Faris arranged some blankets into a pile on the floor.

  “The bed’s big enough for us both,” she said, drowsiness making her bold, or perhaps it was the last of whatever they injected into her at the warehouse.

  “No.”

  “You’re hurt. Sleeping on the floor can’t be good for your shoulder.”

  Crouched on the floor, his tail lashed out behind him.

  “Then let me sleep on the floor.” Leaving the cozy bed sounded like the worst idea, but Faris shouldn’t sleep on the floor. Opening her eyes felt impossible.

  Whatever he said, she didn’t hear it as she fell asleep.

  Faris

  He could not sleep. He washed and oiled his scales. He tried to meditate, but all he could focus on was the steady rhythm of Alice’s breathing. She invaded his thoughts. She had been fearless that day, but she had, as she said, been drugged. He could not judge her based on one day alone. Who would she be when she woke?

  He suspected that she would continue to be fearless, if perhaps more careful in her words and actions.

  In the small hours of the night, the power went off. The building fell silent as the furnace died. All he could hear was Alice’s chattering teeth.

  He crawled into the bed, but only to warm her; he still had some shred of self-control. He was not a mindless creature to the cravings of the fever. He could hold the shivering female to him and resist the temptation of her soft form.